


The Dog Days of Summer

by islandclub



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28340241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandclub/pseuds/islandclub
Summary: Sirius Black was, quite possibly, the most blatantly gargantuan homosexual Hogwarts had ever seen. So much so, that it was quite beyond him how no one had figured it out yet.-Sirius is about to go home for the summer, and is feeling worse about it than ever before. He still hasn't managed to patch things up with Remus after 'the incident', and doesn't know when he'll be able to.Fic set during Hogwarts era and starts at the end of fifth-year.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, wolfstar - Relationship
Kudos: 9





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> hello everyone this is the one and only islandclub harry potter fanfic debut. i am extremely inconsistent with uploads, as this is a very on and off hobby for me. likely that i wont do much when school starts again but there you have it.
> 
> im not going to bother w sirius and remus figuring out theyre gay or whatever because lets be real they know. anyway hope this is decent, enjoy

Sirius Black was, quite possibly, the most blatantly gargantuan homosexual Hogwarts had ever seen. So much so, that it was quite beyond him how no one had figured it out yet. Despite his infuriatingly good looks, he had only ever been with one girl; some wide-eyed Ravenclaw from the year above. Whatever he had felt when he was with her, it certainly wasn’t anything like James’ vivid descriptions of every meaningless interaction he’d ever had with the Evans girl. Sirius had known before, of course, but he wanted to make sure. In the end, he hadn’t had to, and he’d ended the relationship with much regret of ever starting it before any beyond-first-base action had tried to enter the picture.

No, Sirius was a massive poufter and he knew it. It wasn’t as though it was something easy to miss either, and he had never made a wholehearted attempt to hide it. In fact it seemed he made some sly comment about shagging Moony or Wormtail about once daily. No one ever thought for a second that there was any hint of truth to his crude banter, so Sirius found himself keeping it up. 

This is what the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black found himself thinking about in the Gryffindor fifth year dorm room on many a fine Scottish morning. “Fine Scottish morning” meaning that it was grey and windy outside, and the sky was spewing a pathetically misty form of rain. Today’s morning was slightly more pleasant than most however, given that it was a Sunday. No uniform, no lessons, and no McGonagall banging on the door and yelling at him to “get up this very instant or you will be assisting Filch in his toilet-cleaning duties every morning for a month.” 

James and Peter had dragged Remus off to breakfast half an hour earlier, although Remus had been far more inclined to stay in bed until noon. They’d no luck with Sirius, who had threatened to transfigure them into mice and set Mrs. Norris on them if they even tried to get him up. Unfortunately, the racket they had made putting their shoes on had done the job, and Sirius now lay awake, staring at the wooden frame above his bed. He was sleeping a lot more the past few weeks, and he knew why. Summer was speeding over the horizon, and Sirius had no idea how he was going to make it through this one. It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to be looking forward to the holiday like no other before it. It made sense, O.W.L’s finished, heatwave on the way, nothing to worry about. Sirius was as glad as anyone that they were finished with exams, but he could not bare the thought of spending more than five minutes in the general vicinity of his family, especially now. Especially after what he’d done. At least Remus could look him in the eye now, but he’d still have one less friend to reach out to this summer, one less person to keep him sane.

Sirius still winced when he thought about it all. What honestly had gone through his head? And when Madam Pomfrey had interrupted his apology to Remus in the hospital wing, he’d never found a suitable moment to follow it through. He wanted Remus to scream at him, slap him, berate him in front of everyone, to just do something. Do something so Sirius could get what he deserved and they could move on. That was what he wanted more than anything. But in his usual fashion, Remus had remained far too collected to stoop to such a level. Oftentimes, Sirius wondered what, if anything, would make him lose his grip on his Remusy calmness. During these oftentimes, he reminded himself that Remus never deserved to have whatever that was happen to him. 

A clatter of footsteps coming from the spiral staircase outside the door ripped Sirius out of his uncharacteristically deep introspection. James, still in his pyjama bottoms, flung the door open and strode into the room, followed by Peter who had his jumper on backwards. Remus, however, was notably absent. 

James prodded Sirius with his wand, “Mate, you’ve got to get up at some point-“

“Where’s Moony?” Sirius cut him off.

“Wanker’s gone to the library, hasn’t he? Honestly, our big man the Sorting Hat really fucked it not putting him in Ravenclaw with all the other sweats,” James rolled his eyes. “Anyway we’re off to the greenhouses and you’re coming with us. Gotta check on the “goods,” you know?”

Sirius decided that he probably should get around to hauling his arse out of bed, so he pulled on some clothes, not fully able to shake the miserable knowledge that it was really him keeping Remus away. 

The three of them ambled towards the greenhouses, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. The “goods” that James had referred to were their halfway decent attempt at growing weed in one of the out of use greenhouses. Surprisingly, it had been Remus’ idea, and it wasn’t going too badly. The plots they checked on were almost ready, and they were figuring out the best way to split the “supply” up. James had resolved to give Sirius some of his, and had told him so in secret a few nights before. God knows Sirius needed more of it than the others. It probably wasn’t a fantastic sign that he thought of it as a ‘need’, but he had bigger things to worry about, and frankly at this point he really didn’t care what he called it. Both James and Peter started to notice how absurdly quiet Sirius was being, and they exchanged a look, making an effort to conceal their concern.

Peter promptly trundled off to grab the watering can they’d hidden in the only cabinet with a working door, intentionally taking longer than necessary to give James a few minutes to talk to Sirius. Unfortunately, Sirius wasn’t an entirely blithering idiot, so this move wasn’t as casual as the other boys had thought.

As James drew in his breath, Sirius muttered, “Look- I know,” and he heaved a deep sigh. 

James elbowed him lightly, “Yeah, I know you know. When we get to the platform I can pants your dad if you want.”

Sirius gave a halfhearted smile and said, “You know there isn’t anything I’d rather see in the whole world, but they’re not coming to get me. Apparently I’m taking the ‘muggle underground’. Tossers didn’t even give me any muggle money for it so I don’t know how it’s all supposed to work.”

“I’m sure the rents’ll give you a ride if I ask,” James ruffled his hair up in his usual fashion.

“Cheers mate.”

“Not at all.”

When Peter returned with the water, Sirius’ mood had evidently been lifted.

He’d tough it out. He’d done it before, and he’d do it again.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sirius goes home to london. he does not stay long

Arriving back at Number 12 Grimmauld Place was always depressing. The stark contrast between the atmosphere in the Potter’s car and the one outside the Black family home only served to make Sirius feel worse. The wheels of his trunk scraped against the stony pavement as he approached his house. Hesitating slightly, Sirius gave a hard knock on the door, which Regulus answered. He’d been sent home a month earlier owing to a Quidditch injury, and didn’t bother trying to hide his disdain at his brothers return.

“What’s wrong Reggie? Not brimming with joy to see me back?” Sirius grimaced.

Regulus didn’t respond, he pulled the heavy door open further and filed back up to his room. Sirius pulled his trunk over the doorstep and swung the door shut behind him. After heaving it up the stairs to his room, he abandoned it in the corner and decided that unpacking was beyond him right now. He didn’t consider for even half a second that he should make his presence known to his mother and father, if they were even in the house. Kreacher would probably tell them anyway. Sirius intended to spend as little time as possible in the house, and devised all sorts of plans to occupy his time in London. 

He stripped down to his boxers and got into bed. It should have been far too early for him to feel tired but the house seemed to drain all of the energy from him. It seemed incredible to him that it hadn’t always been this way. Looking up at the high ceiling, Sirius tried bitterly to remember how it had been before he’d gone to Hogwarts, but that childlike innocence and fascination had long been hacked to pieces. Perhaps forgetting the act of being a child was necessary to growing up. Sirius doubted it had been quite as lousy for everyone else. 

His once blistering anger had hardened into a sort of calloused acceptance, one which felt much, much worse than fury. At least when it was anger he could do something about it, even if it made everything worse. There is no catharsis for this kind of feeling. There is only a mournful and prolonged aching which can’t be diluted by smashing a lamp or throwing a chair.

Sirius shut his eyes and dreamt of being somewhere, anywhere else. He slept an absurd amount, and didn’t leave his room unless his stomach threatened to start eating itself. He only opened his door when he knew his father was out of the house if he could help it. His mother largely ignored him, occasionally muttering something about Andromeda and blood-traitors, so nothing out of the ordinary. His father was decidedly worse, and Sirius knew that if he so much as opened a cabinet around him he would be in for it. 

His plans to leave the house had been put on hold when he realised he didn’t have a key, and he didn’t fancy having Mummy and Daddy come to the door to let him in every night. In all honesty they’d probably leave him out there. Asking for a key was out of the question. His parents would likely screech at him, his father might even grace him with a few blows to the head. Regulus would snitch, and so would Kreacher. So, in the end, Sirius concluded that he would have to find a way to get one himself. How exactly he would go about it he hadn’t decided yet. Devising a plan to get himself a key at least offered him something to pass the time. 

Sirius thought about transfiguring some trinket into a key, but remembered that he couldn’t do magic outside of school. No, he had to find some silly muggle way to do it. Regrettably, every plan he came up with involved stealing a key, an action which didn’t come without considerable risk. He caught himself thinking ‘Remus would know what to do,’ but didn’t let himself indulge that thought, resolving to tuck it away somewhere in the back of his head instead. He snuck into Regulus’ room to see if he had one, but if he did it was nowhere to be found. This only left his parents, so Sirius listened out for when his mother was in the dining room and poked his head into his parents bedroom.

It had been a long time since he’d been inside. There was a dusty sort of smell, and the bed was made to an infuriatingly proper degree. He glanced around and saw one lying on his mother’s bedside table. He quickly grabbed it and dashed back to his own room. He shovelled some things into a bag and left the house, making as little noise as possible. Once outside, he sauntered off to find a street with some shops. He reasoned that there must be a place that made copies of keys somewhere in Islington. Surely muggles needed to do this sort of thing too? 

Despite not having much luck with this for the first few hours, Sirius couldn’t help but relax in the warm air outside. Eventually, he came across a little shop with a big key symbol over the front door. Even though he wasn’t entirely sure what to ask them to do, he took a confident stride inside the building as a little silver bell that hung on the door let out a charming ring. 

The man at the counter gave Sirius a weak customer service smile. He was a pudgy bald man wearing a shirt that seemed a tad too small for him.

“Alright there?” He asked.

“Yeah all good,” replied Sirius, gazing around the place with a slightly curious look on his face. 

“What can I do for you?” said the man, clearly eager to get on with business.

“Uh,” Sirius wasn’t sure whether this would come across as bizarre, or out of the question, but proceeded with conviction, “Can you make another of this key?” He placed his on the table. For a horrifying moment he wondered if this was illegal in the muggle word, but before he got ahead of himself the man gave a nod and picked it up.

“Course. When will you be wanting to collect?”

“Oh,” Sirius was taken aback for a bit. Of course it wouldn’t be instantaneous, he mentally kicked himself for assuming he could walk in one minute and get his copy the next. But his plan had worked so far, and he reckoned he might as well see it through. “How soon can you get it done?”

Still inspecting Sirius’ key, the man said said, “Well it’s a pretty standard make so it shouldn’t be too long. Haven’t got anything else on the go, so… What’s say you come back in about four hours?”

Sirius gave a thumbs up and left the key to be copied. Now all he had to do was remember where the shop was and find something to pass the time. It turned out to be quite a pleasant day. It was exceptionally warm for London, and Sirius ended up sitting on a park bench watching muggles go about their day to day lives. About halfway through the afternoon he realised that he did, in fact, need to eat. Only when he got to the counter of the deli he’d chosen did a fatal flaw in his thinking make itself clear.

“That’ll be four pounds ninety-nine.”

Money. Stupid fucking non-wizard money. Sirius feigned that he must’ve dropped his somewhere and paced back onto the street. His concern for his hunger diminished as he tried to wrangle a method to pay the key-copier. How much would it even cost? He hadn’t asked. Sirius had a few galleons in his bag, which surely would be enough, only shabby key shops in Islington weren’t likely to take that sort of currency. He seriously considered dabbling in some pickpocketing. He thought that if the city was famous for it then really it couldn’t be that bad… But he didn’t trust that he was skilful enough to do the job. 

Sirius wandered the area dejectedly, reduced to scanning the ground for dropped change. Once his precious remaining hours were up, he’d only managed to scavenge a note with a five on it and some bronze coloured coins. He had no idea how much that was, but by comparing it to the price of the sandwich he’d tried to buy, he figured there wasn’t even a minute chance it would be enough. In the end Sirius figured that his only option was to grab his keys and make a run for it, assuming the opportunity presented himself. 

Sirius Black, the heir of one of the richest wizarding houses in existence, made his peace with making his debut in the world of theivery.

The silver bell sounded once more as he approached the shopkeeper, who shot him a friendly smile, “Right on time, I’ll go get you your keys.”

Sirius smiled back, disgusted with his dishonesty. He was all for causing chaos, but this felt cheap and selfish. While the man fumbled around in the back of the shop, Sirius scrawled a note onto a tissue he’d found in his pocket. Before the key man even got round to announcing the price of his service, Sirius snatched the keys, slammed all the money he had on the counter, along with the note.

‘I’m sorry,’ it said. “Be back with the rest soon.”

The ringing made by the bell on the door as he yanked it open and sped off didn’t seem so charming anymore.

✵

On his walk home, Sirius made plans to change some money in Diagon Alley the next chance he got. He tested his new key out on the door, having at least one thing to be happy about as he found that it worked perfectly. He slipped back inside his house and placed his mothers key on a small table by the door. She’d likely assume she’d left it there, and even if she didn’t there wasn’t any evidence that Sirius had moved it, so he was in the clear. 

But his quiet moment of triumph was short lived. As Sirius tiptoed back upstairs, a rough hand yanked him backwards by his arm. It was his father, staring at him with a furious look in his eye. Sirius stared back at him. Anxiety began to simmer in his chest, but he kept it in check. No one had seen him take the key, this was definitely just his father blowing off some steam after work. He’d just have to keep his head down and get it over with so he could get back up to his room.

“So…” growled his father, “What have you done with my owl?” 

“What owl?” Sirius replied, putting on the most innocent look he could manage. He was genuinely take aback by his fathers question, he really hadn’t used or even seen any owl.

Apparently, Sirius’ expression wasn’t quite innocent enough. Somehow, these two words angered Orion Black to his very core. All of a sudden, Number 12 Grimmauld Place was filled with furious yelling, all directed towards one sixteen-year-old boy who had committed the crime of coming home at the wrong time. Orion shouted something about letters and owls and information from Regulus. Sirius didn’t know if his brother was trying to set him up for punishment or if there’d been something lost in translation; after a few minutes of trying to work it out over the din of his fathers screams he decided he didn’t care. He just wanted this to be over.

Sirius was pulled into a nearby room. He flinched whenever his father took a step forward, and every now and then Sirius would murmur something denying any involvement with this owl business. He tried not to listen to his father, but as the screaming grew louder and the insults cut deeper, he found he could not stop himself from hanging onto every word. 

Slowly, Sirius’ hardened resentment began to melt down into a thick pool of rage. It was the first time in over a year that he’d felt this way. He looked up at his father and stared into his face, both of them were beyond control, plagued by blind rage.

And then, Sirius Black did something he had never done before. 

He hit his father, square in the face, hard.

Shock surged through Sirius, but was quickly drowned out by his anger flooding through him once more. He looked around for something to smash, something to break. His eyes landed on the Black family tree on the wall. Action took the place of foresight as Sirius drew his wand out and pointed it at the picture of his father.

“I’ll do it,” said Sirius, “I’ll burn your fucking face off the wall. I’ll burn the whole thing down.”

There was nothing but pure, unadulterated hatred in Orion Blacks eyes as he stared at his oldest son. He put his hand to his wand, and gave life to the very worst word he could think of. 

“Crucio.”


End file.
